Blizzards and Belles

the days are going by in such a way that i can't seem to get a fix on where i am sometimes. returning to where i was right up in Grand St Bernard Pass i woke during the night quite a few times - i had such disturbing dreams where i was part of a macabre circus - and awoke feeling terrible with my stomach bloated and my head hurting. still, with the light shining through the window it re-energised me. i couldn't wait to get trekking. except i still had a really bad headache. i realised, belatedly, that i must have a touch of altitude sickness as i was over 2400 feet. i'd had the same thing before in Nepal years ago (and this was much milder) but it explained how rotten i felt. i took some pills and looked out the window and to my horror there was a blizzard raging. bearing in mind that i'd decided to do this trek in late summer to avoid the snow it came as a very unpleasant surprise. also because i had no winter gear. at this point i thought i still might be able to start hiking but when i went outside it was as if all the warmth was immediately sucked from my body and my hands went numb. i couldn't see 2 meters in front of me. there was no way i was going to be able to start hiking and i felt bloody depressed. when i did the Camino de Santiago 3 years ago the first few days i got lost, ended up on motorways in the rain and had no idea where i was. i turned all this bad luck around by seeing it as a test and so again i saw what was happening as a test. i was a bloody freezing cold test i may add. i had to make a decision as to whether to stay the night with no guarantee that the blizzard would pass, or try to move on. i ended up chatting to a belguim guy who was wandering around looking as lost as me but a lot warmer as he had a great winter jacket on. it turns out he'd left Belgium 5 weeks ago and was walking the Via Francigeno as well. his name was Jules and he looked just like a retired bank manager. after some discussion and talking to the hostel owners it seemed like the best option would be to get the next bus down a few km as the skies were clearer a few villages below. jules and i braved frostbite to stagger down past the Swiss-Italian border and sat in a hotel drinking coffee (apparently he used to manage a bank). the bus arrived, we hopped on and off we went down the slopes of the Swiss (now Italian) Alps. the snow quickly cleared and soon we were in beautiul sunshine & after a few stops i wished Jules farewell and hopped off at a place called Etroubles. i'd had enough etroubles at this point and wanted to get some hiking in on my first day of the VF. mind you, looking back up at the top of the Alps from where i'd come from on the bus i'd no idea how i would have faired. the sheer scale of them dwarfed everything around and it would have taken a long, long time to descend. i set off for my first trekking day somewhat relieved. after this things seemed to get back on track. i passed through some incredibly beautiful countryside - everything was blooming or blossoming and the air was sweet and clean. the little villages i passed through had little houses still very much like the Swiss wooden chalets and there were red, white and purple flowers everywhere. after 4 hours i arrived in Aosta: the regional capital of the Aosta valley and a lovely place to stay overnight. being on the Swiss-Italian border it was quite an influential town in the Roman and Mediaeval ages and seemed to take a great pride in itself. i got there about 4pm so i had to find a hotel and quick & my guide recommended one called the 'Belle Epoche' which i found pretty much straightaway. the old granny propped up on the wine counter (it doubled as a pizzeria) let me in and growled in my general direction. it seems i'd interrupted her afternoon TV viewing and she wasn't best pleased. i booked in, paid 26 euros and then climbed the 5 flights of stairs to my room - and that was after Mafia Granny has made me read a list of rules that i had to adhere to. when i got to my room the sheer irony of the words 'Belle' and 'Epoche' registered as the epoch celebrated seemed to be a time of dusty plastic flowers stuck in vases up and down the stairs, pink (also plastic) curtains and moudly showers. nice. Mafia Granny was doing well all things considered. i changed, showered and headed out to see Aosta. the town was set out in a pattern that has rapidly become familiar: an old city centre full of little shops, cafes and restaurants and a populace that strolls through for an afternoon gelato and then comes back in the evening to see and be seen. i did a bit of sightseeing (they had an Arch of Augustus dating from 25 BC with some original white and grey marble still in place) and ate some great fungi pizza (the mushrooms in this valley are renowned and they really were absolutely divine - woody, earthy and very, very succulent). by this time i was knackered so went back to the lovely era in which was staying, sneaked past Mafia Granny, fell over some dusty flowers in a vase and eventually got to bed, tired but happy